


Falling

by ArianneMaya



Series: Aftermath [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1520786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArianneMaya/pseuds/ArianneMaya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Nights in New York have changed, but this, the moment when the whole world is sleeping and Steve is wide awake, is always the same.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to @Eeyore9990 and @heartsdesire456 for looking this over for me. Any remaining mistakes are mine.

It feels like Steve hasn’t stopped moving since he got out of the hospital, aware that if he does, his carefully constructed world will collapse and bury him under its ruins. 

It’s almost harder than waking up in what he still has a tendency to call _the future_. It should have broken him to pieces when he realized that the world went on without him, that the people closest to him were all dead or dealing with the consequences of old age. 

Like Peggy, who remembers him one second and sees him again for the first time since he crashed that plane into the ocean the next, leaving Steve with the painful knowledge that the only reason why she always recognizes him is because he looks the same as he did the last time she’d seen him. 

He’s seen her mistake her grand-daughter for her daughter, has heard the girl’s wrecked sobs as soon as she walked out the door. He wanted to say something, anything, but he’s never met the girl before, and he didn’t know her name. 

So many reminders that the world didn’t wait for him to wake up, like broken shards of an existence he never had a chance to have, waiting for the right moment to slice under his skin better than a knife would. 

Yet he’s figured out a way to move forward, a way to remember that he is alive and that he can still protect the people he considers his. So much so that even the conversations with Peggy feel like seeing an old friend, someone who knows him inside and out, instead of reminding him of the full life she got to live and that he couldn’t witness. 

However, this feeling of having been left behind is nothing compared to seeing someone he knew he would never see again, someone that he thought dead, alive and determined to kill him. 

Since he woke up, he has done what he didn’t have time for in the forties, thanks to the war: he mourned Bucky, the friendship they shared, and the love they never got to live. To this day, Steve still wonders if Bucky shared his feelings. If, maybe, Steve had had the courage to face rejection and tell him, for real, they could have had something more. 

He doesn’t know, and he’s made his peace with the fact that he never will. He’s visited the grave of Bucky’s parents, the one that also bears Bucky’s name even though there never was a body to bury, and left flowers, a bouquet of daisies, just like the ones he and Bucky would pick for their mothers when they were kids. 

He even thought that he’d accepted that there was nothing he could have done. That Bucky fell too fast from that damn train for Steve to do anything. 

And if sometimes he wonders about what ifs and maybes, it’s always with the little smile that comes with the memory of the way they always took care of each other. 

It was enough. 

Until Bucky’s ghost came crawling right out of his grave, the perfect assassin whose target was Steve. 

Steve has fought, but not for his own life. He’s fought for the lives of the people he’d sworn to protect. He’s fought for the friends he’s made and who were crazy enough to come along for the ride and take down SHIELD. 

Captain America’s purpose, as far as Steve is concerned, was always to protect his people. Sometimes it means Steve’s friends. Sometimes it means a whole country. Sometimes, it even means the whole world. 

And, once that purpose was accomplished, there was no way in hell Steve could kill the person he still considered his best friend, even if that person was trying his hardest to kill him. Even if it meant risking his life to maybe save Bucky. 

He knows that, in the end, Bucky saved his life. If Bucky hadn’t pulled him out of the water, between the multiple bullet wounds, the blood loss and the broken bones, Steve would have drowned. 

The single fact that the Winter Soldier didn’t finish his mission, that he saved Steve’s life instead of killing him, is enough to convince Steve that Bucky isn’t completely gone. That he’s still in there, somewhere, maybe prisoner in his own head, hidden by years of trauma and brainwashing and conditioning. And that if Steve hurries, he still has a chance to do what he couldn’t when Bucky fell from that train and save him. 

When the doctors finally allowed him out of the hospital, he didn’t give himself time to completely heal. Every day not doing anything felt like a day wasted while Bucky slipped farther from his grip. 

He’s read the file Natasha provided him with so many times that he almost knows it by heart and can recite whole paragraphs without prompting. 

He and Sam decided to start with Brooklyn, because they have to start somewhere, and since there’s been no trail, no sight whatsoever of Bucky since he pulled Steve out of the water, a trip down memory lane seems like the best bet. 

That’s how they end up at the newly renovated Avengers tower, where Tony, of all people, takes Sam’s side when he tries, once again, to tell Steve that he needs to heal, first, that he won’t be any help to Bucky if he’s not grounded and solid. 

So Steve agrees to spend a couple of days at the tower, giving in to Tony’s completely not credible argument that he’s going to need that time to fix Sam’s wings. Steve has a hard time believing him; there’s no doubt in his mind that Tony found the specs for the wings on an army server somewhere as soon as he knew that they were heading his way and that Sam’s wings would need fixing. He isn’t even surprised to hear that Tony already has four or five new, better designs to suggest, even though Sam asks him to stick with the one he’s already familiar with. Still, Steve takes the excuse for what it is. 

That doesn’t mean he won’t start searching, but it does mean that he slows down a little. That he allows himself to breathe and not obsess about Bucky and where he might find him every minute of every day. 

Of course, that’s exactly when the events of the last couple of days finally catch up with him. 

That first night at the tower, he dreams. 

He’s back on that train, freezing his ass off in Germany. Every time Steve extends his hand just a little bit too late, and he watches Bucky fall. Again. And again. 

Then he’s the one falling, going down with the helicarrier while Bucky stares at him. 

Bucky’s words follow him as he wakes up. _You could have saved me._

Steve barely has the time to get out of bed and into the bathroom before he throws up. 

When his stomach finally stops heaving, he has the taste of bile in his mouth. He pushes away from the toilet, wipes angrily at the tears that burn in his eyes but refuse to fall. 

It takes a couple of long breaths before he stops feeling like his legs will give up under him as soon as he tries to stand. He rinses his mouth. The single thought of going back to bed and dreaming again is enough to make him feel sick.

Instead, he does as he so often did, seventy-something years ago. He grabs his drawing pad, his charcoals, and he steps out onto the balcony. 

Nights in New York have changed, but this, the moment when the whole world is sleeping and Steve is wide awake, is always the same. 

***

“You should be sleeping, Stevie. You’re going to catch a cold if you don’t get enough sleep, and you know how bad your cold gets.” 

Steve shrugs and turns away from the street, just a little, just enough to look at Bucky. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” He’s still drawing, his fingers assured as he switches to a new page.

“Well, don’t expect me to take care of your skinny ass if you get sick.”

It makes Steve smile. They both know it’s a lie – whenever Steve catches anything, Bucky can be worse than Steve’s own mother ever was, with how much he fusses over him – but it feels good to have someone who, the rest of the time, doesn’t treat Steve like he’s a fragile little thing who will break into pieces with the smallest gust of wind. 

Through the years, Steve has found other people like that. But since he’s known Bucky his whole life, it always means a little bit more, coming from him.

“Stop being such a jerk, Buck. You should go back to bed.” 

Bucky shakes his head. “Not without you.”

Steve smile grows wider. Without realizing it, he’s stopped drawing the street, the moon in the sky, and has started drawing Bucky instead. The strong line of his jaw, the kindness in his eyes. “Let me finish this first?”

“Okay.” 

He watches as Bucky relaxes, as his smile takes on a soft edge, and it makes him feel warm all over. On a night like this one, he could almost believe that there is more between them than just friendship, that if Steve was to say something, it might lead to everything Steve wishes and not to Bucky making him feel like he pities him, as so many people in Steve’s life have done.

Instead, he enjoys every second of moments like this, when he can look at Bucky, _really_ look at him, and not attract suspicious glances from strangers. Or questioning looks from Bucky himself. 

When he’s done, Bucky takes him back to bed and they fall asleep in each other’s arms. Because Steve sleeps easier with Bucky strong arms around him, even though he’ll never admit it, and Bucky sleeps easier when he knows that Steve won’t wake up in the middle of an asthma attack that he’ll have to struggle through alone. 

So what started as a way to keep warm at night, in the middle of a cold New York winter, has never really stopped. And they’re both okay with that.

***

Steve has left the door open and hears Sam long before Sam joins him on the balcony. He steals a glance at Sam as he sits in the chair opposite Steve’s, his mouth watering when he takes notice of the fact that Sam’s wearing sweat pants and nothing else. They’ve been heading somewhere since Steve’s first attempt at flirting on his morning run, but after everything that happened in the last couple of days, Steve has no idea if they still are. 

“You having nightmares?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah.” Steve’s attention is still on his drawing. At some point, he’ll feel comfortable enough to talk about his nightmares, but that won’t happen tonight. “Didn’t mean to wake you up.” 

“You didn’t. I couldn’t sleep.” 

They stay silent for the longest time after that. Steve angles himself so he can look at Sam and, without thinking, he turns to a new page and starts drawing Sam, his heart beating faster. 

“What’s making you smile like that?”

“Feels familiar.” Steve lets out a small sigh. “When I was twenty and living in Brooklyn with Bucky, I had a hard time sleeping because I had a hard time breathing. In the summer, I always ended up on the balcony, drawing, with Bucky trying to convince me to go back to bed.” 

Sam’s smile is soft enough to make Steve melt. “Were you two… together?”

“No, we weren’t like that.” Usually, he would stop there, or say something about how Bucky was like a brother to him. But it’s Sam, and Steve has no reason not to be honest. “I loved him, but I always thought that saying something would wreck our friendship. I was okay with us being just friends, but it would have killed me to lose him. By the time I figured out how much I loved him, it was too late.”

He hesitates, but the last thing he wants is to start something while feeling like he has to hide a part of himself. So he says, as fast as he can, “Same thing happened with Peggy.” He waits for the other shoe to drop. He’s figured out long ago that the same people who have no problem with the idea of he and Bucky can be really uncomfortable with the fact that his attraction to Peggy, his feelings for her, were just as real. 

But Sam doesn’t react. Steve chooses to believe it’s because it doesn’t change anything for him, and continues, “I’ve always been a little slow at figuring out my own feelings. And even slower at realizing those feelings were shared.” 

“Do you still love him?” Sam’s face shows nothing, making it really hard to know what the right answer is. 

Steve holds in the _of course I do_ that comes to him on instinct. He has a feeling that the question isn’t really about him and Bucky; it’s about he and Sam, and this thing that, at this point, is a _maybe_. 

“I don’t think I could ever stop,” he admits. “I thought he was dead, so it was… a memory. A reason to keep going because I knew he wouldn’t want me to stop living just because he wasn’t here anymore. I mourned him, but I never thought I’d have to get over him since he was dead.” 

“And now?” 

Sam sounds so very serious that Steve takes the time to think about it.

“Now… even if we find him, I know he’ll never be the Bucky I remember.” It hurts to say it aloud, much more than Steve was expecting and he has to close his eyes, blinking back tears. “The friend I knew is dead. I have no idea how much will be left of him when we find him. _If_ there will be anything left of him.” 

It’s true that, when he first came face to face with the Winter Soldier, and later on the helicarrier, he was expecting him to magically be Bucky again. While nothing will convince him that Bucky isn’t worth saving, he’s had time to think and realize that hoping to get his best friend back unchanged was a pipe dream.

He opens his eyes again to find Sam staring at him. “What?” 

“I wasn’t expecting you to be that realistic.” 

Steve looks down onto the street. “I always see the good things in the people I meet, true. That doesn’t make me naïve.” He sighs, switches to a new page. He turns around fully, dropping the pretense that he’s drawing the street. “The war changed me. I’m not the same person I was before everything. And I didn’t have seventy years worth of brainwashing and torture. Even if Bucky hadn’t fallen and I didn’t crash that plane, things wouldn’t have been as I remember them.” 

“So the reason why you’re running after a ghost isn’t because you’re in love with him.” 

This time, Steve can hear the relief in Sam’s voice and it brings a small smile to his face. Maybe they’re still on the same page. “No. It’s because if I find him, if I help him, maybe I can redeem myself for leaving him behind.”

Tears burn in his eyes. He’s glad when Sam doesn’t say anything, not even a small, _it wasn’t your fault._ He knows that, but it’s not enough to chase away the guilt. 

Instead, Sam pulls his chair closer to Steve’s and wraps an arm around Steve’s shoulders. 

“I know I couldn’t have done anything, but…” Steve’s trembling voice betrays him and he can’t finish. 

“I get it.”

Steve shakes his head. He’s already used to people saying exactly that even though they can’t hope to understand.

So much so that Sam takes him by surprise when he says, “When I can’t sleep, it’s because every time I close my eyes, all I see is Riley being wiped out of the sky. There wasn’t anything I could do, but I’d give everything for a second chance. Believe me, I get it.” 

For a moment, Steve is reminded of the day when he woke up in the hospital to find Sam sitting next to him, of what Sam said right as Steve was about to fall asleep again. Words Steve is pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to hear. _You’re stuck with me, Steve. I’m not losing another partner._

And he wonders if that’s all this is to Sam: a second chance. 

Because it’s Sam, and it’s so easy to talk to him, about anything, Steve asks, “Why are you here? Why did you come with me?” 

Sam tightens his grip around Steve’s shoulders. “Because it felt to me like you would need a friend.”

“And what if I want more than just a friend?” 

He expects to regret the words as soon as they are out of his mouth. Instead, Sam’s pleased smile makes him feel warm all over. 

“I could work with that.” 

Slowly, Steve takes the pad and the charcoals that were lying forgotten on his knees and put them on the small table next to him, making sure they won’t tumble to the floor. He knows he has money now, but sometimes it’s as if he can’t really believe it. Like the idea that he could replace his art supplies so easily if he was to lose them still seems like a happy, unachievable dream.

It’s only then that Steve brings a hand to Sam’s cheek and inches closer until their lips touch, a pressure so easy and light that it can barely be called a kiss. 

When Steve pulls away, just enough that he can look Sam in the eyes, it’s to see Sam’s whole expression soften even more before he pulls Steve forward with a hand on the back of his neck. 

They kiss again, a slow dance of lips and tongue, sweet and soft and mellow, until Steve could swear he feels his heart tighten in his chest. 

He pours everything he has into that kiss, his passion and his desire and his fear and his pain. 

When they separate, they’re both breathing hard. Sam rests his forehead against Steve’s, and he whispers, “It’s not that I don’t want to, just… You’re all kinds of messed up and while I’m sure it would be a very nice fuck, that’s all it would be. And with you, I want more than that.”

Steve wants nothing more than to say that he knows what he’s doing, but Sam is right. He doesn’t. He feels like he’s pulled in all directions at the same time and it hurts so badly that he can’t tell which side is up or down anymore. As good as it would feel to forget everything for a little while, it would also complicate everything. If Sam was a stranger that he would never see again, Steve wouldn’t hesitate. But Sam isn’t going anywhere and Steve wants so much more than just a quick fuck. He’s not willing to risk losing Sam before they even have the chance to start anything. 

“I get it,” he says, very softly. 

Next thing he knows he’s grinning and Sam asks, “What’s so funny?”

“Do you have any idea how much I wish we’d fallen into bed before I ended up at your house as a wanted fugitive?”

Sam smiles and trails his thumb down the line of Steve’s neck. “Not as much as me.” 

They kiss one last time. It feels like a promise. 

“Do you think you can sleep now?”

Steve points to his drawing pad. “Maybe once I finish this.”

Taking a closer look, Sam asks, “Wait, is that me?” 

Steve passes him the pad, his smile growing wider when Sam lets out a low whistle. 

“I had no idea you were such an artist.”

“I was in art school, before the war. It helps keep my head clear.” And chase away the nightmares when necessary, he doesn’t say, but from Sam’s nod, he gets it. “So, will you pose for me?”

Sam arches an eyebrow. “Sure, if that’s what you’re calling it.” 

The lazy drawl of Sam’s voice makes Steve’s whole face heat up. “Get back over there.”

After Sam moves back to his earlier spot, Steve focuses on his drawing. He tries his best to keep his mouth shut until he can’t help saying, “One of the reasons I have such a hard time sleeping is because I’m so used to sharing a bed. Started during a winter when our heat was turned off and somehow, we never stopped. Then, during the war, it was me keeping him warm. He said it was like sleeping next to a living, breathing furnace.” 

With a small shrug, Sam replies, “We did the same in the desert, me and Riley. Heat during the day was insane, but nights were cold as fuck.”

It feels like Sam’s waiting for Steve to add something, but Steve doesn’t dare. 

When he’s finally satisfied with his drawing, they head back inside. At the door of Steve’s room, Sam stops him with a hand on his arm. “You’re not the only one who has trouble sleeping in an empty bed.” His voice goes all soft when he continues, “Do you want me to stay?”

Steve wants that so badly, yet he hears himself saying, “I can’t ask you to—”

“You’re not making me do anything, Steve.” 

It makes Steve’s heart beat faster as he realizes that this is about so much more than just this moment. It’s everything, including Sam suiting up again and coming with him on what is likely to turn into a wild goose chase. 

Maybe that’s why he says, “Please, stay.” 

That night, when they fall asleep in each other’s arms, Steve realizes that he’s already falling for Sam, and hard. 

Somehow, that doesn’t feel like such a bad thing.


End file.
